


Where Should We Begin?

by typingkeys11



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Loss of Trust, Marital Problems, Marriage, Separation, Slow Burn, fact mixed with fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typingkeys11/pseuds/typingkeys11
Summary: Francesco de'Pazzi was pleased when he removed his traitorous wife from his home. Upon learning his mistaken judgment and finding the damage it has caused his reputation, Francesco summons Novella to return to Florence.  He finds that asking for things to go back to the way it was before is an impossible task and he and Novella remain at an impasse.  Why settle for going to the way things were when things could be made for the better? Of course, the path to true love never did run smooth.
Relationships: Novella Foscari/Francesco de' Pazzi
Comments: 30
Kudos: 64





	1. Prologue

Scotland, 1527 

The castle is dark and silent, as always. Novella hated it ever since she arrived nearly forty-four years ago. It did not help that there was a lingering damp smell that permeated through the halls. She would think that it would have stopped bothering her after a short while, but that day never came. Novella hobbles along toward her bedchamber, her walking stick clacking loudly. She makes a point to bring it down with a bit of unnecessary hardness just for the sake of making a little noise. It feels better to do that, so it is not so maddeningly quiet. 

Novella pauses for a brief moment to look at a single portrait that is near the doorway to her room. It is a portrait of her painted years ago, shortly after her wedding. Novella purses her lips at it, internally scolding time for ravaging her looks. She was never a vain woman, but seeing herself so young while she is stooped over, wrinkled, and grey upsets her mildly. Gone is her fiery copper hair, smooth and bright skin, and slender build. It feels as if that young woman never existed since no trace of her remains in her old body. A stranger would never know that she and the young bride in the portrait are the same person but perhaps if they looked at the eyes. The eyes are the same from then and now. The eyes in the picture are melancholic and devoid of light. 

It was a remarkable feat that she was able to remarry in the first place. She, a Venetian, with five young children and courted doggedly by a young Scotsman. Her father insisted upon the remarriage, getting older and unable to provide for six additional members of his household. Novella did not want this match, yet it was the only way her children would be able to thrive. Besides, no one in Florence would want anything to do with the disgraced widow of Francesco de’ Pazzi. Marrying a foreigner and leaving Florence behind would be for the best. Her sons and daughters would never have to hear the whispers and taunts about their father's deeds. They had a chance to live normally and possibly have some happiness. 

But not for her. Her happiness died years ago, even though she was far away from the painful memories. Alexander was a kind man, mild and pleasant. They never fought or even so much as raised their voices at one another. Even with a husband who was decent to her children from her first marriage, she was never happy with him. Even with three children sired by him, she never felt joy from the new family she created with him. The years went by, and the light that had once been there never reappeared. 

Alexander had once asked if she had been a melancholic child since she smiled so seldom. Novella had thought to tell him no, she had been a bright and animated child. She loved to play and became easily amused by things great and small. Novella was known for her spritely nature and innocent naughtiness. Her parents and the governesses were powerless against her winning smile and her infectious laughter. Yet, telling the truth would have hurt Alexander. He would likely think that she was unhappy with him (which was true). It was pointless to say so now. She merely replied yes and went back to her book. 

That was long ago, too, but she had never changed. She remained stiff and unsmiling, much like her wedding portrait. 

Novella snapped from her thoughts when a painful cough ripped through her lungs. The sheer force nearly caused her to drop her walking stick. This blasted cough had been persisting for days now. The physician that had come to see her some days ago was a fool and prescribed that she use leeches. It did nothing, just as she told him angrily. Earlier at breakfast, she coughed then and saw a bit of blood mixed with her spittle. She said nothing of it to Alexander and stuffed her handkerchief inside her gown. Walking to her chambers had been exhausting, and standing upright was tiresome too. 

Novella shuffled towards her bed took great effort to get in. She considered calling for the maid. The girl was useless, however, and afraid to touch her. She was better off doing it by herself. As Novella nestled under the heavy covers, she found herself wondering when was the last time she had been happy. There was a simple answer to that question. When Francesco, the man of her heart, was still breathing. 

_The last time she truly smiled when she said goodbye to him before he left for Easter Mass. Novella wished she had gone with him. Maybe things would have been different. She only stayed home because Firenze was inconsolable. The governess could not possibly mind all the other children on her own. Francesco had promised to bring a doll after mass for their fourth child, Fiorenza. Novella had broken it by inadvertently sitting on it. She had not seen it on the chair and was horrified when she heard the crack underneath her. Francesco failed miserably at not laughing at her clumsiness. Novella groaned that their daughter would be in a rage. Her husband kissed her hands and face (still unable to stifle his chuckling) and assured he would find another._

_"You're very welcome, by the way, ma donna. You may return the favor by admitting you were wrong about Laura fancying Cesare."_

_"I will not!" Novella laughed and lightly pushed at her husband._

_A few months prior, Francesco had observed a flirtatious nature between two of their servants. He was adamant that it was a mutual attraction. Novella thought it all a bit one-sided. It did not help when their eldest daughter, Viola, gleefully informed her parents that she saw Laura kissing Cesare in the garden. Novella was still sure she was right._

_"Laura would have borne their third child but you would maintain she was only looking for amusement!"_

_"It would never get that far! She fancies our new stable hand! I see how she looks at the ground when he comes by."_

_"Maddening woman! You will come up with every reason before you would concede you are wrong." Francesco laughed._

_Novella smiled brightly at him and teased, "Are you not the most fortunate man in Florence to be married to me?"_

_She had meant it playfully, of course, but Francesco's face softened. He cradled her face. "You are certainly right about that. I cannot argue with you there."_

_He kissed her goodbye and murmured against her hair, "Do not worry about Fiorenza. I will find her a new doll. You can give it to her so she will not be angry with you."_

_"Why would you do that?"_

_"Because I hate that anyone should ever think less or unhappily of you."_

It was the last time she saw him smile. It was her favorite smile. All the more tragic since she would never see it again. Even after all this time, she remembered it more clearly than anything else, though she was becoming more forgetful in her old age. 

_Would you recognize me now, amore? Would you have foreseen that I would become an old woman? Would you know how lonely I have been all these years? Why did you leave me alone again after you swore you never would?_

She blinked back the tears and cleared her throat. No use in asking questions to one that could not answer. 

_Three weeks later_

The persisting cough had grown far worse. No amount of treatments or physicians were able to alleviate Novella's persistent cough. It was frequent for her to find more and more blood in her handkerchiefs. Her breathing felt even more difficult. Being awake was tiring for Novella. Alexander reassured her again and again that she would be well soon. He would seek the most excellent doctors from England if he had to. Novella did not argue but would weakly dismiss him by telling him she wished to rest. 

Novella wanted to sleep, but she kept waking herself from the horrid coughing. She couldn't even be sure what time it was. It must have been a bit before dawn. The sky was beginning to lighten. Today was going to be different, she thought. Novella could feel it in her bones that something of great importance was going to happen. For the first time in years, she felt a bit of cautious excitement. In the last few days, Novella was unsure if she saw things that others could not. Perhaps it was the many tinctures or medicines she was taking yet she was almost sure she would see a flash of dark green by the far corner of her room. She had seen it more than once but she could never be sure if her tired mind was playing tricks. 

She could not sleep now, wide awake from her last coughing bout. The servants were likely busy preparing for the day. None of them would be able to assist her. Alexander would be sound asleep in his chambers and she didn't have much desire to speak to him. It was only her in the room, alone with her thoughts. 

At times like this, she often remembered the last time she saw Francesco. She was not supposed to have been there. A servant helped disguise her and accompanied her to Palazzo Vecchio late at night. The city had gone to sleep, but Novella had been in a mad rush to get the children to safety in Venice. It was nearly completely dark save for a few torches. She saw the obscured corpse of her husband hanging from the top of a building. Perhaps it was good that it was dark because she would have cried aloud upon seeing his lifeless face. Novella had pleaded with the servant to cut him down. The young man was too afraid of getting caught and taking Francesco's place. He and his mistress would die before Tuesday. The servant yanked Novella away before she could take another look. 

Novella could barely wipe the tears at the memory. _Is this really how you wish to spend your time, Novia? Thinking of the sad times? Was there not enough good to remember?_ Novella blinked rapidly. She never heard her thoughts in the sound of Francesco's voice. It sounded so far away, like he was calling out to her from above an ocean. 

She settled back into the bed, pulling the covers under her chin. Yes ...she thought. Yes, there were enough. Novella always used to believe that she and Francesco were married twice. The few months before she was sent away to Venice and then after he sent for her to return home. That was the marriage that she mourned for the most — the one where they truly learned one another and remained together for no other purpose but one another. 

Just as she was closing her eyes, she thought she saw something dark green emerge from the far corner. She smiled slightly to herself and asked softly, "Where should we begin, Checco?" 

* * *

The title of this fic comes from a wonderful podcast by Esther Perel in which the host helps couples navigate through marital and relationship problems. I hated the way Novella was thrown out of the de'Pazzi household over a misunderstanding and Jacopo's meddling. So to give a better life for an ill-fated couple, I cooked up this story. Hope y'all will like it as much I as hope to enjoy writing it. 


	2. Chapter 1

Francesco sat silently in his study, trying to read some notes but rereading the same words. He had sat in the room all night and had not slept. He would splash his face with water from the tiny basin in the room to keep his eyes from closing. Of all the places in the de' Pazzi household, his study was his personal favorite. Francesco had personally overseen every repair and renovation to his grandfather's old room and ensured it was the most thoroughly cleaned each day. He had lost count how many nights he found himself there in the mornings, having fallen asleep the night before. 

Lately, Francesco avoided being home as much as possible. If he were to come, he would remain in the study and keep his mind occupied. Truthfully, Francesco was not in the mood to speak to anyone. Wherever he went in his house, servants looked at him in an unbecoming and judgmental manner. Jacopo was overly-friendly to the point where Francesco wanted to throw an inkpot at his face. Guglielmo was self-righteous and bossy. Francesco did not want to even begin with the Medici brothers. Francesco was irritated and on edge with people only looking at him. 

The young banker sighed and rubbed his face with a wet hand, trying to rouse himself before he nodded off. Francesco remembered his mother, Nicolosa, who used to tell him that it was essential to learn how to get on with people and not spend so much time with his books. He maintained to this day that books and studies were never as disappointing to him as people were. 

No one ever precisely did as they were supposed to, Francesco mulled. From the time he was a small boy, he was very particular about following rules. People made rules to ensure there would be order and stability. If people flouted convention and tradition, there was always pain and suffering. Granted, his penchant for adhering to the rules did not necessarily make him a popular boy as he was growing up. 

All his life, Francesco had been disappointed and let down by those who could not do as they should. For example, his parents died much too early, leaving him and his brothers behind. Parents were not supposed to do that to their young children. They were supposed to see them on to standing on their own feet. Francesco was let down by childhood friends for preferring the company of others to himself. He felt especially let down when Lorenzo de Medici fought with him and knocked him to the ground as children. Yet the betrayal that burned him the most was his most recent one. 

_"_ _So_ _if you were not invited to Florence by Bianca...then who invited you?"_

_"Francesco! This is such a small thing!" Novella cried._

_He felt his blood boiling when he heard that. Why did Novella lie to him?! She was his wife! To find the one person whom he trusted above all else came to Florence under a pretense was too much to bear. She made him even angrier when she began to cry. As if crying would make him soften and back away. He was aware that women used their tears as a means to get their way. From the moment Novella stopped crying, she would run off to Lorenzo and share more secrets. God knew how many things she told him or what ideas she planted in his head._

_"The invitation was for my father! It included me!" Novella sobbed._

_"And why would it include you?" Francesco sneered. "Why?"_

_"I don't know...you would have to ask Lorenzo."_

_There it was. Not so cunning now, are you? Of course, he would have to ask Lorenzo since he was the one who orchestrated it all in the first place! Lorenzo must have planned for him to be distracted by this new wife and would start plotting to put the de'_ _Pazzi_ _bank at risk. Did he honestly think that he would allow him to do whatever since he helped him find a wife? Was Lorenzo so arrogant to think that Francesco would be indebted to him and allow him to run amok in Florence?_

_He didn't have to be loyal to this man any longer. The wife Lorenzo apparently "gifted" him was out of the picture and sent back to Venice. Francesco owed him nothing now. He could focus on what truly mattered._

Francesco felt his head throb and rubbed his temple. Thinking of Novella at all would make his head hurt. It angered him how he did not sense anything amiss for nearly five months! How dare they both to take him for a fool and laugh at him behind his back! With a snarl, he slammed his fist against the table. Damn them both, he thought angrily. Especially damn Novella. 

He expected underhanded and sly behavior from Lorenzo but not from his wife. Not from the woman whom he shared his house and bed. Francesco had not wanted to marry anyone in the first place. She enchanted him with her wit, sense of humor, and of course, her beauty. Marrying her was also strategic in securing a Venetian alliance. Novella had brightened the halls of the de' Pazzi residence with her smiles and charm. The servants adored her for being a fair and kindly mistress. Her sunny nature warmed him too, being so devoid of a woman's presence. All for this to be an illusion...a lie to ruin his name and business. 

At least she was removed before any real trouble was gone. It was a lesson learned. Francesco would not allow for any more distractions and put his head down to work. He would make his own rule now. Never let anyone take him away from his work or trust anyone again. 

* * *

_Two weeks later_

Francesco stormed into his study and slammed the door shut. He cursed aloud and kicked the wall in anger. This was the third account they lost this week! No explanation! Just people were taking their accounts to the Medicis. It was outrageous to him that it was three prominent merchants who did this as well. One of them, a Messer Bionda, would not look him in the eye and repeated he wanted to bank with another. Messer Bionda wouldn't even say who. He did not need to. Francesco tried everything to convince him to stay, but it was too late. 

Jacopo had the gall to tell him that it was his fault. "You show weakness, nephew. No one has confidence in your abilities! Show what you are capable of, and for the love of God, find out what is the cause behind the loss of our clients!" 

How was this his fault?! Francesco had been polite and courteous to each customer, he had been transparent and forthcoming when advising clients, and he did not call in any loans unless he absolutely necessary. What was the problem? Damn the Medici for costing him business, time and time again! 

Jacopo was right about one thing. He had to find out what was the problem and what was the Medici doing to ruin him. 

The servants were behaving insolently too. The serving girls dropped the plates in front of him and Jacopo and excused themselves before the meals were over. The cooks were ill-tempered and contradictory to everything he said. Even the stable hands were not caring for the horses properly. The overall management of the house had fallen in quality. 

Perhaps he needed to have a word with Guglielmo. His younger brother would be able to tell him what was transpiring in the Medici house. Of course, he would not say much. There were, however, clever ways of asking him what was causing the change. 

"It is good of you to invite me to this tavern, brother! A reprieve was much needed." Guglielmo smiled warmly when the drinks arrived before them. 

"I need one as much as you, but I daresay you are happy to return to your routines," Francesco remarked. 

"Indeed! The little one grows and is becoming more and more like Bianca every day!" 

Francesco had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a snide comment. Guglielmo would leave before the meeting was over. 

"I...am happy to see you well. Fatherhood suits you." This statement was not a lie. Despite all the trouble Guglielmo created at times, Francesco loved him more than any other their other siblings. They bonded through tragedy and hardship. Guglielmo understood Francesco better than anyone. Even if his younger brother exhausted him and made foolish choices, Francesco would die before allowing anything dreadful to happen to him. 

Guglielmo beamed at this and summoned the waiter. They started the conversation innocently enough, mostly discussing the new infant. Or, it was Guglielmo who spoke at length of his new child while Francesco politely listened. 

"How do things fare at the bank?" Guglielmo asked before biting into his bread. Francesco paused and narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. 

"What have you heard?" 

"Nothing. I was only-" 

"I know that voice! I know that face and I know that voice! You cannot keep secrets of any kind! You were never good at it! What have you heard?" 

Guglielmo protested, insisting he didn't know anything. Francesco immediately pulled the plate away from him. Guglielmo frowned and tried to take the plate back. Francesco was too quick and moved it onto his lap. 

"You are fed plenty in your wife's home! The food can wait. Now, as your brother, what have you heard?" 

Guglielmo sighed. Francesco was a dragon when he was in a bad mood. He didn't want to deal with his older sibling creating a drama so publicly. 

"Fine. I heard the de' Pazzi bank is losing customers. Not because they like the Medici bank more but for the sake of association." 

Francesco was puzzled. "What do you mean? Have we not been upstanding, law-abiding citizens? Do we not regularly attend Mass and-" 

"It's not that!" Guglielmo replied quickly. 

"Then what is it?! Tell me at once or I will-!" 

"It's you, Francesco!" Guglielmo blurted exasperatedly. "You are the cause of the bank losses." 

Francesco felt his neck get hot. His fingers curled tightly around his drinking container. He had to take in deep breaths before he did something reckless. "Why..., pray tell, is this so?" 

Guglielmo sighed. For a man as intelligent as Francesco, he could be painfully blind to common sense at times. Not that he would ever say so. 

"Brother, you cast your wife out of your home! She comes from a respectable, noble family. Novella's mother is a Baldovinetti. You cannot just-" 

"She betrayed me! She was brought to Florence so that she could spy on our family! Your brother-in-law used her against me! God knows if you share this conversation with him!" Francesco seethed. 

Guglielmo rubbed a hand down his face. "Francesco...you are being completely and utterly ridiculous." 

"I AM-" Francesco began raising his voice before Guglielmo gave him a pointed look. Francesco lowered it, but nearly spat with anger "I am not being ridiculous!" 

"Was she unfaithful? Taking up with another man?" Guglielmo countered. 

"No." 

"Did she go against your express wishes?" 

"No." 

"Then why did you cast her out, exactly? Her mother, though she no longer is alive, has a great many friends and acquaintances here. You look cruel, I dare say, by removing her." 

Francesco eye's widened with rage and shock, "WHAT?!" 

"Come now, Francesco! You know as well as I do, you created a scandal. Yes, you did not break any laws! However, you did this to a woman who comes from wealth and prestige! Her mother's friends and relatives will say anything about you to get justice for their own! It does not help you that Novella was popular among your servants. Servants talk amongst themselves and word travels like the plague!" 

Francesco knew Guglielmo was right. He had been so angry that day he didn't foresee the ramifications of his actions. He should have remembered that there were a great many people who knew Novella's family and praised him for securing such an advantageous match. 

"Those people may say whatever they wish about me. She was spying on me and reporting everything to Lorenzo!" he maintained. 

The younger de' Pazzi shook his head, "I can assure you, that is not the case. Trust me, I live in that household. Why would you think she was spying on you?" 

Francesco told Guglielmo about her meeting with Jacopo and how her arrival to Florence never made much sense to him. 

"Brother, do you not see? She did not even know Bianca before the wedding! She told me she was her friend! Why would you attend the wedding of a stranger if you were not there for any other purpose but because she was directed to do so?" 

Guglielmo was at a loss for words briefly. Either Jacopo was a much better liar than he remembered or Francesco lost his mind. 

"Do you hear yourself? You must believe me! No, Novella did not know Bianca before the wedding. They met a few days before. The reason Lorenzo invited Novella was that she was initially meant to meet Guiliano. He refused her and, well, Clarice could see Novella was charmed by you. Simple as that." 

Francesco glared at Guglielmo, "That cannot be true. Your wife told you-" 

"Francesco, you have to stop this madness! Would I ever lie to you or purposefully misguide you? That is the truth! Novella's father brought her to Florence in hopes of a match between her and Guiliano! Her father only brought her along for that purpose. Not to spy on you or whatever you think. You must stop thinking that everyone wants you to fail and-" 

"Enough! You have said enough." Francesco interjected. He was not feeling so well all of a sudden. Something was wrong with this story. He was sure of it. Yet, he knew Guglielmo would never lie to him. 

"Why did Novella not say that in the first place? If she was there to meet Guiliano, then why would she not have said that?" 

Guglielmo shrugged, "Perhaps she didn't know. Young women are trotted out to weddings all the time in the hopes a well-off family will notice her." 

Francesco was silent, thinking over what Guglielmo had said. Inwardly, he was cursing himself for not asking his brother first. 

Guglielmo smiled sympathetically at Francesco and patted his arm. "It is not too late to make it right, brother. You can bring her home. Once you do, I am sure your problems will be over." 

Francesco bid him goodbye, not entirely paying attention. He desperately wanted to believe that Guglielmo was wrong. Yet, nothing his younger brother said sounded false, nor did it seem impossible. 

Francesco returned to the bank, intent on recovering some of the lost business. He would have to make up a convincing reason to combat the stories circulating about her removal. As the afternoon wore on, Francesco looked up from his work when a messenger handed him a note from Messer Soderini. He frowned upon receiving it. There was to be a large gathering in his home, with many notable members of the Signoria present. 

Typically, Francesco was not overly fond of crowds like this. However, he was wise enough to know how useful they were to attend. If anything, he could glean things far more valuable than new bank clients. These dinner affairs were a hotbed of information regarding the comings and goings of Florence and the other city-states. The more events he attended, the more he knew. 

The young banker opened his letter and read that the dinner's postponement. Soderini's wife had taken ill. The host thought it best not to have guests at the time. Francesco shrugged and tossed the paper into the fireplace. While he was partly relieved not to have to attend any longer, he was at a loss for what he would do with his spare time. Francesco did not care to spend any time with Jacopo. While he and Jacopo had mended their fences, somewhat, Francesco was still wary of his uncle's motives. He knew first-hand how devious and manipulative the older man could be to get his way even if it meant harming those closest to him. 

Francesco did find it a bit strange how...pleased his uncle was when he learned of Novella's removal from the household. In situations like this, the correct response would be to extend sympathy over the failure of the marriage. However, Jacopo delightedly congratulated him on his choice and suggested they have an excellent meal to "move past the incident." As Francesco thought on this now with his new information, why would Jacopo react this way? He could not trust his uncle either, even if they worked together and had common goals. Francesco would have to tread lightly about him and carefully observe him. 

Nightfall came at last rand Francesco rose from the desk, stretching as he did so. He did not realize how late it was until the last clerk said goodnight. Francesco still had nothing to do this evening, and the thought of sitting idle was a bit unnerving to him. What to do, what to do, what to do. ... Perhaps he could stop at the booksellers and find something to read for leisure. It had been long since Francesco read for his enjoyment rather than learn about banking or official documents. 

Francesco remembered wistfully how Novella enjoyed reading as well. He found it surprising since Novella initially did not strike him as the sort of woman who enjoyed reading. It made him smile when she told him she had read The Divine Comedy twelve times and that she would reread Teseida at least once a month. 

The more he spoke with his then-intended, the more he enjoyed her company. Francesco used to think ladies like Novella were only interested in landing wealthy men for a husband. Those women seemed insipid and dull to him. Novella surprised him pleasantly when she was able to successfully notch an arrow and shoot a door. She went from clumsy to graceful in less than a minute! From then on, Francesco was fascinated by her. Novella struck him as a puzzle and not an easily solvable one. The best possible kind. 

He had never been very good with women in his younger years. He had no sisters and his mother died when he was very young. In his adolescent years, women confused and annoyed him. As he got older, he kept his distance as much as possible. Novella was the first woman whom he really spent time with and became close to. Some nights, he was painfully aware of his loneliness and how noticeably cold his bed felt. It would be lying if Francesco did not think about finding a mistress or even seeking out an attractive maid or tavern girl for the night. He could never bring himself to do it, however. Francesco used to cite the infidelities of the Medici men as a reason to find them repugnant. The banker would be a hypocrite if he engaged in the same behavior. If he hated anything more than failure, it was hypocrisy. 

Still, he moved along with his work and keeping his mind occupied. If he worked enough and focused on the bank, he would not have time to think about Novella or finding comfort elsewhere. 

Francesco shook himself out of his thoughts and proceeded out the door. On his way, he encountered Bastiano Soderini, flanked by three young men. He recognized some of them as the sons of men in the Signoria. The men were laughing and in excellent spirits, especially Bastiano Soderini. Odd... hadn't his mother taken ill? Francesco stopped the men in the street and greeted them politely. 

"Are you on the way to our house, Messer de' Pazzi? The other guests should be arriving as we speak!" Bastiano asked loudly, trying to speak above his friends' boisterous laughter. 

"No...I was under the impression that the gathering would be at another time. I received a note from your father saying your mother is unwell. Is she improved?" 

Bastiano blinked at him, looking confused. "No, Messer. You must be mistaken. Mother is not unwell at all. You were invited to our home for dinner with some other families." 

Wait a minute, Francesco thought. Why would he get a note from Messer Soderini saying such? What was going on? 

Francesco nodded, "As a matter of fact, I was about to collect Guglielmo. You will be seeing me soon enough." 

It didn't take Francesco to find his brother walking alongside Lorenzo de' Medici in the direction of the Soderini house. Francesco had to take great pains to acknowledge Lorenzo barely. 

"Might I have a moment alone to speak to Guglielmo? It is a rather important question regarding Pazzi-related matters." Francesco bit out. 

"Is everything well? Perhaps I may be of some-" Lorenzo began. 

"No! I assure you, we do not need Medici influence!" 

Lorenzo was about to protest before Guglielmo uttered quietly to give him a few minutes alone to speak to Francesco, Guglielmo frowned at Francesco for not even thanking Lorenzo's accommodations. 

"What is it?" 

"Did you receive a note from Soderini about his wife being ill and the banquet. being moved to another day?" 

Guglielmo looked as confused as Bastiano Soderini had earlier. "What? I never received such a note!" 

Before Francesco could say another word, Guglielmo called out to Lorenzo. The younger de' Pazzi proceeded to tell Lorenzo about what Francesco told him. Damn it, Guglielmo! Francesco groaned inwardly. Did Lorenzo need to hear about this? 

Lorenzo's face fell before he cast an uncomfortable glance at Guglielmo. "Oh dear...I told Soderini not to do that." 

Francesco flared. "What have you done, Medici? Do I threaten you so that you resort to telling people- 

Lorenzo held up a hand. "On the contrary, Francesco. I was trying to secure an invitation for you! I heard rumblings from the Baldovinetti family that you were not...a desirable guest to have. They have been saying some rather unfounded things about you. I suppose people listened." 

Francesco wanted to just die. The most irritating man in the world knew all about his problems. Lorenzo was too polite to show it, but the bastard was probably drunk with glee on the inside. Lorenzo continued to twist the knife. 

"I told Soderini to invite you but he was very skeptical. He was not sure if he could have you and Luca Baldovinetti under the same roof." 

Francesco barely ground out, "I see." 

Lorenzo looked genuinely bothered on the other man’s behalf. "I am sorry you had to find out this way, Francesco. I would be happy to speak to him and tell him he was wrong to deceive you." 

"No need. I do not need your help." The older de'Pazzi muttered. 

Guglielmo interjected, "Francesco, come now. You must bring Novella home. As her cousin, Luca sees you as someone who has tarnished his kinswoman's reputation. If anything, do this so you can repair your own!" 

Francesco looked at both men with disgust. He couldn't tell if he was angry at them or angry with himself. With barely a nod, he stormed past both men and went home in the opposite direction. 

As Francesco walked home, he began to feel weak-kneed and panicked. What had he done? He had been so confident of Medici trickery that he made a grave error. A mistake like this was exactly what that blasted family would have wanted! Francesco's obsession and suspicions had cost him dearly. The Medici didn't have to do anything. Francesco ruined himself far better than they could've. The only person left to confirm this was his father-in-law. He dreaded even thinking to ask. Francesco never felt so foolish in all his life. _Now, stop thinking of what an imbecile you have been and think of how you will fix this. Put that famed brain of yours to work!_

Francesco would have to make arrangements immediately to bring Novella back. He could start by writing a letter to her father and request her to be sent home. To best assuage Novella's hurt feelings, he would send a trunk of beautiful clothes, shoes, and expensive jewelry as well. Surely that would please her, Francesco thought. She certainly had an affinity for clothing (which he didn't understand but it seemed to earn her a great deal of praise wherever she went). He could buy some new books and other things to amuse her. Yes, Francesco thought with resolve. He would prepare the house, host a lavish dinner welcoming her back, and everything will be as it was before. 

With his wife back on his arm again, he could recover some of his former clients. Novella could get the Baldovinetti family to cease their attacks by showing she was perfectly happy in Florence. It was all a misunderstanding! Things would right itself in no time. 

Francesco sat at the desk of his study and hastily began to write to his father-in-law. He wrote a long letter, detailing his misunderstanding and confusion. When Francesco read over it, the florid language and the length of it made him wince. Andrea Foscari would be entirely unimpressed. It made Francesco feel like he was pleading for something that was already his. He crumbled it and threw it in the fireplace. 

Hours went by and Francesco still could not come up with a satisfactory letter to write to Novella's father. Either the letters made him look weak and foolish, or they appeared to be lacking. It was his right to have Novella home. Messer Foscari could not legally refuse him in giving her back. Surely, he was doing his father-in-law a favor by taking Novella off of his hands again. Perhaps it was the last few weeks that caught up to him or his poorly mood from the day but Francesco decided he was not going to beg or make excuses. He did not have to explain himself to anyone, thank you very much! Novella would return home and there was nothing else to be said. 

With a huff, Francesco wrote a short and direct letter. 

_"Dear Messer Foscari,_

_With careful thought and consideration, I have decided to send for Novella to return to Florence. She is needed here and must be home within the fortnight. We may discuss the matter further if you desire but I wish to extend my rights as a husband to have his wife in her place."_

_-Francesco de'_ _Pazzi_ _."_

First thing in the morning, he would send a servant to deliver the message and strict orders not to return until Novella was with him. 

As Francesco went to bed, he still felt uneasy about the matter. He would be naïve to think that there would not be tension, and of course, he was sure his father-in-law hated him. Well, there was a plan to fix this. He could live with Andrea Foscari being angry and Novella would have no choice but to reconcile lest he sent her back again. Only this time, Francesco could say that she was ill-tempered and rejecting his good graces. He would not be at fault for this again. 

* * *


	3. Chapter 2

Fifty-two days. Fifty-two days had passed without one word from Florence since Novella returned to Venice. It was strange how time elapsed from the day she arrived. Some days, the pain felt dull but persistent, like an old wound that never healed fully. Other days, the grief felt sharp and searing as if it happened to her just now. 

During the first week of her arrival, Novella was devastated. She wailed to her father about what happened and begged for him to go to Florence and reason with Francesco. Her brothers, Andrea and Giuseppe, swore that they would kill the Florentine banker for humiliating their youngest sister. It only made her weep more. Eva, the elder of the Foscari sisters, began looking for any legal recourse to make Francesco take his wife back. As her family tried to amend the situation, Novella waited for any sign of Francesco. She wrote letters daily to Francesco, only to receive them back unopened. Any time a messenger came, Novella accosted him to see if there was anything for her. Still nothing. She spent days in bed, crying or sleeping. 

By the third week, her father returned from Florence with the bad news that Francesco refused to see him. Still, Novella held on to a small hope that Francesco would miss her and would come to Venice to collect her himself. She tried to recall what she could have done wrong during their marriage to make him so hastily send her away. 

All because of accompanying her father to a wedding? Because she was not friends with Bianca since childhood? None of it made sense to her. She spent hours thinking of why this would be so troubling to Francesco that he removed her in such haste. Was it really because of those reasons? Had she displeased him before of and he never said anything until he found a reason to throw her out? Novella grew angry with herself for not pleasing her husband enough. She was so sure that they were happy together! Where had she gone wrong with him? 

By the fifth week, Novella began to realize that Francesco would not be sending for her. No more letters to write and no more waiting by the window for messengers. Sadness consumed Novella over the end of her marriage that she began eating less than what she had before. She lost considerable weight and her hair became matted and dull. Once fastidious about her routines and appearance, everything fell by the wayside. Novella looked exhausted and ill. Eva tried to coax her sister into allowing a maid to attend to her, yet nothing worked. 

When the middle of the sixth week came, Novella’s anger toward herself redirected towards Francesco. She burned all the letters he wrote her during their betrothal, destroyed the gowns he bought her, and told the servants to sell the jewelry. They could do whatever they liked with the money. Anything material item which reminded her of Francesco went into a fireplace promptly. Despite destroying the possessions, the anger did not leave her the way it was supposed to. Instead, it made her cynical and distant. 

Yet, something began to emerge from the ashes of her rage. Perhaps it was the dullness of being indoors all day, but Novella went for a walk in the gardens. The fresh air and sunshine soothed her frayed nerves and tension. The clean scent of foliage and earth was healing from the inside. She approached a gardener and began to ask him questions about each plant that was in the garden. She began spending hours in the garden, learning how to plant flowers and vegetables. While the pursuit was decidedly beneath her, her family was overjoyed that was engaging her mind. 

The gardening led to Novella picking up all the old hobbies she once had. She was reading before bed again and began weaving a half-finished tapestry. Novella was allowing the maids to dress her hair simply and she wore muted colors. However, it was a much-needed change from the nightgowns and shawls. Her father, Andrea, nearly cried out from joy when she began sitting with her family for meals again. Slowly, but surely, Novella was becoming like her old self, the pride and joy of the Foscari’s. 

* * *

When Novella was born, her parents knew she was going to be a special child. Unlike her parents or her siblings, Novella inherited the red hair of her paternal grandmother. Andrea Foscari insisted that no greater lady existed than she. It was a good omen for Novella to resemble her so. Her father maintained that he loved all of his children equally. In his heart of hearts, Novella was his favorite. There was never a day when he could not hear her laughing, singing, or chatting to others or even to herself. More than her amiable nature, Novella displayed an aptitude for learning. She continually sat with him in his study and learned to read in his lap. 

Despite her mother’s protests, Andrea did not send Novella to a convent for her education. Instead, he hired the best tutors to teach Novella everything her brothers would learn. It was of no surprise to him that she applied herself to her studies better than her elder brothers did. When her mother died, Novella honored her mother’s memory by engaging in more feminine pursuits, but she still learned archery and horseback riding from her brothers. As Novella grew up, Andrea was confident that any man who married her would be the most blessed among men. It would be impossible for her husband to not love her infectious laughter and smile, her capable intelligence, and her unique beauty. Yes, that man would never find better than his daughter. 

It shook him to his core when Novella came home in utter despair. He tried everything, but Francesco was resolute in his decision. There was no way he could keep the rumors about Novella at bay either. No one could imagine why Francesco de’ Pazzi would reject such a woman unless she had done something to make him do so. The whispers of infidelity and immoral behavior stung and outraged him. These were all jealous tongues that delighted in seeing her failure, he reasoned with himself. Someone must have tried to put a curse on his daughter from sheer envy. It was easier to believe someone else did this to her rather than accept he was the one who was so eager to marry her off in the first place. 

The guilt began to dissipate for Andrea when he saw Novella returning to her old ways again. After breakfast, Novella went back to the garden and spent nearly the whole day outside. When she returned, she had a basket full of apples with her and was smiling. Andrea would have thrown her a ball for just this small act. She was looking healthier and more refreshed than she had in weeks. However, all that would be turned upside down because of a letter he received. A messenger had come in a carriage bearing the de’ Pazzi crest. There were three trunks attached to it that looked very heavy. The messenger said not a word when he handed him a letter. Andrea felt his knees weaken. His heart hammered wildly against his chest. _Just when Novella was beginning to move on..._

Novella came to dinner, looking well-rested and serene. She greeted her father with a hug and a kiss. However, she noticed his very rigid and tensed body language. 

“Is everything all right?” she asked as she sat down. 

Andrea swallowed. Oh God above...he was going to destroy everything in just a few words. He hated himself for doing this. _Forgive me, my child._

“Novella...I...” 

“What is wrong, Papa? Is it Eva? Has something happened to Rodrigo?” 

Novella’s voice began to rise with panic. Her elder sister’s husband had been ill for some time. Recently, he had taken a turn for the worse. Eva left to be at his side four days ago. 

“No, my dear. It is news from Florence.” 

Novella immediately stiffened. The bread in her hand fell, unnoticed. 

“Is it...is it cousin Luca?” she asked in a small voice. _You idiot girl,_ she scolded herself. _You know damn well it is not._

Her father felt his eyes sting. “No, Nova. It is not. I have received word from Francesco. He wishes for you to return home.” 

The room began to spin. Novella felt like she couldn’t hear anything. The pounding of her heart was nearly deafening in her ears. Her stomach, though empty, felt like it was going to leap from her mouth. 

“M-may I read the letter?” How she was able to speak, she didn’t know. Her tongue was dry and her throat tight. 

Andrea handed it to her and watched her face. To his surprise, she was not crying. Instead, her jaw clenched and her mouth became a thin line. Novella’s face hardened before she crumbled and tore up the letter. 

“Tell him no. I will not,” she said flatly. She rose from the table and swiftly walked out of the dining room. 

Andrea steadied himself. For all of Novella’s gregariousness, her temper and stubbornness were legendary. After all, it was the curse of the Foscari. All of his children (along with many aunts, uncles, and assorted ancestors) were quick to anger and hold grudges. Novella’s siblings showed their anger in various ways. Her brothers were prone to breaking things and acting rashly while her sister was cold and silent. Novella, on the other hand, raised her voice and was sharp-tongued. He dreaded to see how she would hear the news and, worse still, what she would say if he insisted upon her departure. 

Andrea followed her up to her room, protesting after her. “You must go, Novella. I cannot keep you with me, much as I wish to!” 

Novella turned and glared at her father, “Did you read that letter? Did you read what he wrote?! It was cold and cruel. I want nothing to do with him ever again!” 

Andrea shook his head, “I do not want to force you, but I cannot prevent this. We cannot annul the marriage nor can we-” 

“No! I do not want to go back! I waited for him! For days, like a fool, I waited! Do you not understand, Papa, how Francesco hurt me? How he humiliated me? Why should I go back to him if all he will ever do is break my heart? If he does not want me, then I do not want him!” Novella screamed. She was so angry that she did not even notice that her face streaked with tears. 

Andrea held his arms out and enveloped his daughter into a hug. She couldn’t stop trembling and sobbing. “Please, Papa...if you love me, you will not send me there.” 

“I tried, my child. I asked everyone and the law and Church say you must go back. You belong to him now.” 

She looked up at him and whispered in a broken and shuddering voice, “Do those things matter in the face of my happiness?” 

Andrea could not answer her, only opting to hug her again. Her arms hung limply at her side. 

“You cannot understand how difficult this is for me. You were finally becoming happy again, and now I have to let you go.” 

Novella could barely get the words out to ask her father to leave her be for a while. As Andrea left, he felt as though he would be sick to his stomach. He lost his daughter forever. She would never forgive him for this. It pained him to think Novella would be right to do so. 

_Three days later_

Novella’s maids had packed all her belongings quickly. She only watched sadly as the chest was loaded and attached to the back of the carriage. The last time the maids had packed her chest, she was excited and happy. She was a different woman then. Now, she felt as though she was going to Hell. The trunks Francesco had sent were unopened and left idle. Novella had no desire to see what he sent. They would all go into a fireplace upon her arrival in Florence. 

“You will write to tell me about your arrival, won’t you?” Andrea’s words interrupted her thoughts. 

Novella looked up blankly at her father and shrugged. She said nothing and return his embrace as he hugged her goodbye. It crushed Andrea to see his daughter so closed off to him. She had not spoken to him since he told her that Francesco sent for her. 

“Novella, you must understand. I did not want this for you! I cannot keep you with me. You belong to Francesco now and you must obey him! You swore before-” 

Novella could barely hear what he was saying to her. She only saw his lips moving, but his voice sounded like it was in a vacuum. 

“Can you believe me? Can you promise me that you understand I cannot help you?” she, at last, heard him say. 

“Who can I believe, Papa? A husband who vowed to protect me and to never abandon me? A father who gives me away without even trying to fight for me? I cannot trust any man ever again.” Novella replied, voice flat and dull, but there was poison in her words. 

Andrea wanted to speak again, but it was too late. Novella had already turned her back and boarded the carriage, not looking at him. Novella did not trust herself to look at him one last time. It was powerful men like him who made these laws, trading women like mere objects. Her father was nowhere near as weak as he made himself sound. 

Novella understood her father had been humiliated by Francesco’s actions as well. Sending her back was the best way he could save face. A short absence like hers could be smoothed over by excuses like her father being ill. Everything would appear normal to people who mattered so little to her life but a great deal to her father. 

The carriage began rolling, and Novella stared straight ahead. If she looked back, she would have seen her father crying. 

* * *

It was dark when Novella finally arrived in Florence. Despite her unhappiness and trepidation, she always loved the city. Florence was such a beautiful place, full of brilliant minds and artists who were like magicians. The markets were far superior in quality compared to the Venetian ones, as well. In the early days of their marriage, Francesco sometimes left the bank early to take her to these grand markets. It amused him to see her in awe of the street performers, the puppet masters, and the general chaos of the market. Novella sensed he felt guilty for spending so much time at the bank and working after he returned home. To ensure she was looked after well, Francesco spent lavishly on her and ordered things from other cities so she would not be wanting. 

If Novella objectively thought about it, she wasn’t sure how much of Francesco she even knew. While Francesco had been kind and gentle towards her, she could feel he kept her at arm’s length. At times, he would brood silently, and she couldn’t tell what the matter was. Only once did he tell her of the problems between his uncle and himself. She only wanted to help by mending the relationship. Perhaps...Francesco would have seen she tried to make him happy and would open up to her more. 

As the carriage pulled into the street of Francesco’s home, Novella felt overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. As angry as she was with Francesco for abandoning her, she was frightfully nervous about seeing him after a long while. A part of her wondered how he would react upon seeing her as well. Judging by his letter, she imagined he must have sent for her under the advice of someone else. Not that he factually wanted her back. 

“We are here, ma donna.” 

Oh, God. Novella thought, fear seizing her. What was she going to say? Should she say anything at all? So many questions filled her that the messenger had to repeat himself for her to exit the carriage. She took short, hesitant steps to the massive bronze doors. _Please let him be kind to me...please make this easy_ , she inwardly pleaded. It felt as though she would dive into a deep river, not knowing where the current would take her. _Be brave, girl. Be brave and be a Foscari._

As soon as Novella entered the halls of the house, only silence greeted her. She blinked with confusion and took in the surroundings. It was as she left it, but there was nearly no activity. Where were all the servants, and more importantly, where was Francesco? 

An older footman by the name of Riccardo emerged and greeted Novella politely. “Welcome home, ma donna. We are happy to have you home again. I hope the journey was a smooth one.” 

Novella instantly felt more relaxed at the sight of a friendly and familiar face. “Thank you, Riccardo. I am glad to see you looking well. Where is everyone? Is Messer de’ Pazzi in the study?” 

Riccardo’s face fell and looked sheepish. “The servants are still here, ma donna. They are eating their supper in the dining room. I will tell them to eat in their quarters.” 

Novella shook her head and waved a hand, “No, please do not do that. Let them eat in peace. I admit, I am confused. Are the servants allowed to eat in the dining room now? I have been away for some time. Perhaps the rules have changed.” 

“Ehm...no. Whenever Messer de’ Pazzi is away, we eat in the dining room. Please do not tell him, ma donna.” 

Novella’s initial relief dissolved into growing vexation. “Wait. Do you mean to tell me he is not even home? Where is he?” 

“He has gone to Messer Jacopo tonight. He will be back tomorrow morning.” 

Novella had to keep her voice and tone in check. She was too well-bred to lose her temper about the master of the house in front of servants. 

“I see,” she replied in a business-like and firm tone. “Carry on with your meal, Riccardo. I will speak to Maddalena tomorrow and see what has happened in my absence.” Novella attempted to smile, but her eyes betrayed her. 

She walked to where her and Francesco’s bedchamber was and stood in the doorway. Novella glared and clenched a fist as she stared at the empty bed. That son of a whore didn’t even have the courtesy to greet her upon her return home, she fumed. He did not deserve her fear or her nervousness now. Francesco would be a fool to think that she would eagerly take her place in their room again. She needed to teach him a lesson. Her husband could not be allowed to believe that he was free to do anything with no regard for her feelings. She called out to Riccardo. 

“When you have finished eating, please have someone make up my room down the hall. I will not be sleeping in Messer de’ Pazzi’s chambers.” 

Novella awoke in one of the guest chambers and startled slightly at the sight of such a different room. The house was mostly quiet, but she could hear the pitter-patter of feet walking by her chambers. It was likely a little after dawn, still very early to be awake. Novella had slept poorly the night before and wasn’t entirely sure when she fell asleep or for how long. She wondered if Francesco had looked for her or even asked about her arrival. Was he even here? 

_For someone who dislikes Francesco as you claim to, you seem to wonder about his whereabouts a great deal_ , she thought. Novella groaned and buried her face in the pillow. She felt like a fool for letting herself think of him so much upon her return. He was not worth her time, energy, or thoughts. But how could she be free of him when so much of him overtook this house? 

There was a portrait in the room of Francesco’s grandfather hanging on the wall. Her husband bore a considerable resemblance to him. It felt like her husband was staring at her from above. Novella shivered at the austere expression and hardened gaze of the picture. Like grandfather, like grandson, she thought. 

It was a surprise to see the portrait since Francesco never really liked to talk about his family much. His parents died when he was young and he didn’t leave Florence much to visit other relatives. Whenever Francesco brushed away her questions about his family, she always wondered if it was a painful subject for him. Sometimes he would reverse her questions, his smile soft as she spoke at length answering him. When Novella said it was time to sleep, her husband would shake his head and encouraged her to tell him more. He wanted to fall asleep to the sound of her voice, he would say. 

_Enough thinking_ , she told herself firmly. _You know what happens when you think too much — time to get to work._

After being dressed, Novella took a look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was bound up neatly in a braided knot and she wore a plain, dark blue dress with a white kirtle beneath. Her sleeves were unadorned and practical. There was a time when Novella would not have been caught dead in such plain and understated clothing. Venetians favored bright colors with beautiful fabrics. It appeared as though she was dressing well beneath her station, but she did not want to look happy to be here. Novella refused to give Francesco the satisfaction of thinking everything was as before. 

While her appearance was lackluster, she was aware she had a job to do. The idea of running Francesco’s household irked her to no end (doing anything for him infuriated her), but she would die of boredom only staying in her room. The rooms were dusty and smelled stale, she had seen a pile of linens and clothes piled in a corner, and carpets were fraying and had splatters of wine and mud on them. It was clear the servants were not even trying to keep the house up. Novella felt smug when she imagined the overly tidy Francesco reacting to the messiness. Much as she enjoyed that thought, the servants disinterest would cost her later. If they were not afraid of Francesco, they would not bother with a thing Novella asked. No, she needed to re-establish her authority. If anything, running the household would give her some feeling of control and that her say mattered. 

Novella ate a small breakfast alone but busily wrote down a list of things she needed to do for the day. It was an old habit of her mother’s that she picked up. She always felt disorganized and scattered without having a list to consult. 

1-Speak to Maddalena about the staff 

_-How many maids_

_-How many footmen_

_-How many guards_

_-How many cooks_

_-How many gardeners (very important) _

-How many stable-hands 

2- Speak to Ludovico about the kitchen 

_-How much food do we have_

_-How much money do we spend on food_

_-What can be bought compared to what can come from the garde_ n 

3-Send a cook to go to the market (only if we must) 

4-Send Sofia to the laundress 

_-Send white clothes first!_

5-Visit the garden and see what is growing at this time of year 

6-Ask Delfina to buy wool 

_-Check the tapestry in the spare room to see what colors are needed_

7-Ask Rosalia and Ana to clean the chambers. 

- _Take the rugs outside for washing_

_-Change the bedclothes_

_-Dust the furniture_

_-Open windows for fresh air_

She tapped the quill to her chin, trying to decide what else was needed. It had been some time since Novella had done any domestic work that she was sure she was missing something. As she wracked her brain trying to think of what to write, a loud thud came from outside the dining room. Novella heard male voices but could not make out what was said. She crept to the door and opened it just a fraction to see who had arrived. 

Novella gasped softly upon seeing her husband handing his cloak to one of the servants. He looked to be in a poor mood, his face stony and jaw clenched. _Do not be afraid of him...he should be afraid of you!_ Novella opened it just a little more to hear what he was saying. 

“Gianni, under any circumstance, do not let my uncle come in. Tell him I am unwell and need rest!” 

She raised a brow, curiosity growing. _They were still quarreling,_ she thought. _What has happened_? 

“Messer, are you aware that ma donna has returned? She came last night and-” 

“Why did you not say so before?! Where is she?” 

“Erm...in the dining room.” 

Novella couldn’t hear what Francesco told the servant. She quickly straightened her dress and smoothed it down. Novella stood up tall and schooled her expression to look stern. She may not have been feeling courageous at the moment, but she would rather fall off a horse before letting Francesco see her afraid or nervous. 

Novella’s sternness gave way to shock when Francesco pulled open the door and stepped in. His expression matched hers when he saw her. Neither of them spoke as they looked one another over. Novella was privately disappointed that Francesco was still handsome as ever. Unfortunately, she felt her face warm at seeing artfully windswept curls, his dark brown eyes, and elegant build. When she had first met him, she likened him to a classical statue, like some great philosopher in his youth. After getting over his appearance, Novella stiffened herself and crossed her arms. _He may be a beautiful man, but you still hate him,_ she reminded herself. _Remember, the devil makes himself look attractive to bring down the most righteous._

Francesco, on his part, was utterly surprised at Novella’s appearance. For one thing, she dressed as though she were a simple merchant’s daughter. She wore no jewelry and her hair didn’t have any ribbons. Novella had also lost weight, making her appear gaunt and drawn. Despite all this, Novella still looked beautiful. It would be impossible for Novella to look ugly, even if she looked unwell. However, Francesco could not ignore the frown on his wife’s face or her stiff posture. _Did she not receive the clothes and jewelry_ , he wondered. She must not have because she looked the way he did whenever he saw Guiliano de’ Medici. 

Francesco decided to speak first. He cleared his throat and spoke pleasantly, “Welcome home, Novella. I am glad to see you returned safely.” 

The banker inwardly winced when her face darkened some more. 

“Are you?” she replied sharply. 

“...Yes, why would I not be?” 

Novella scoffed, “If I seem to remember correctly, you were rather eager for me to return to my father’s. Your letter to him, by the way, seemed to show you missed me terribly.” 

Francesco sighed. He should have seen this coming. Francesco was already in a bad or mood from Jacopo’s nagging and inability to take responsibility for anything that went wrong. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Novella’s attitude. 

“I assume you did not get my gifts?” Francesco asked pointedly. There was a definite undertone to his voice that he was getting defensive too. 

“I did.” 

“And were they not to your liking?” 

“No,” Novella answered flatly. Francesco did not like the way she was regarding him. Her arms were folded tightly under her chest and was staring straight at him, eyes full of challenge. 

“Why not? Have your ah, tastes, changed? I see the Venetians have decided to economize.” He regretted the jibe as soon as it left his lips. He should have been calmer, but he never could leave an argument without complete humbling the other party. 

Novella saw red. That stupid remark and the arrogance of this man drove her crazy. Was he so brazen to not apologize or act like nothing was wrong? All the anger and sadness Novella harbored for the past two months broke the dam of rationality and deference. 

“How dare you! Do you think I care about some silly clothes or shiny rocks?! You could make me the Pope and I would still be furious with you!” 

Francesco flared at that. A woman raising her voice to him and showing such ingratitude was unacceptable. “Lower your voice to me! Those were gifts and intended as an apology! Who do you think you are to act as though such things are beneath you?!” 

“How could you? How could you just send me away for no reason and then call me back without so much as an apology? You never wrote back to me while I was away! My father even came to Florence to speak to you but you ignored him too! You embarrassed me! Do you know what people said about me because of what you did?!” Novella screamed. 

“What difference does it make now that you are back in Florence? What do you care about what strangers from Venice say? And do not think you’re the only one subject to gossip! I suffered too! The bank suffered as well!” 

“Good!” Novella snapped. “It’s the very least you deserve for how you threw me out!” 

Francesco took two strides over and grabbed Novella roughly by the arm. He saw a flicker of fear cross her eyes. It went away quickly and instead flashed defiance. “What are you going to do, Francesco? Throw me out again? Beat me? Starve me? Go on, then. Do it.” 

_Remember, Francesco...remember what happened when you didn’t think through your actions,_ his conscience told him. She has family here, a powerful family. _If they find out what you did, you will lose more than clients and invitations. You could be driven out of Florence altogether if you touch so much as a hair on her head._ Francesco snarled unintelligibly and pushed her away. He could not be in this house right now. He had to get away before he did something regrettable. 

Francesco slammed the door shut behind him and stormed out of the house. As he walked towards the stable, he passed the window of the dining room. His curiosity got the better of him as he peeked in to see if Novella was still there. 

He cursed under his breath. Livid as he was at this moment, his heart panged a little when he saw Novella at the table, head buried in her arms and her shoulders shaking. _No_ , he told himself firmly. _Do not feel sorry for her. Do not give in. She may have a powerful family, but you are the master of this house. Novella must follow the rules of living in it._


	4. Chapter 3

The de’Pazzi household brimming with tension after Novella had returned. The servants were wary of the coldness between the master and the mistress of the household. It was unclear how long it would be before either husband and wife spoke to one another, let alone be in the same room at the same time.  Francesco took no umbrage to Novella sleeping elsewhere. His routines carried on much as it had before but slightly better since the household responsibilities resumed. 

At 5:30 every morning, Francesco arose. For a man who loved sleeping as he did, Cesare, his manservant, shaved and perfumed him first before Francesco dressed. By 6:15, Francesco was out the door. He knew it was too early since the bank did not open until 7:30. Arriving early allowed him extra time to read any notes or organize his lists of tasks for the day. 

From the bank’s opening till 1:00 in the afternoon, Francesco worked. His current and most important project was to open a branch of the de’Pazzi bank in Rome. The Medici family had at least three branches and it would simply not do to fall so behind. Besides, if his family had a branch in Rome, they could be a better contender for the Papal accounts. Along with the planning of this branch, Francesco personally oversaw some of his more influential client accounts, completed the bookkeeping, issued the letters of credit, approved or denied loans, and even provided some financial advice to his more valuable clients. There were many days when Francesco was very busy and would skip lunch altogether. On slower days, he would return home for a small lunch, and if it was very slow, a short nap before returning to work. 

Till about 7:30, Francesco completed any remaining work and finished anything the clerks left undone. He also used the last two hours of the day to write down notes about what he observed the clerks doing. It was helpful for him to see which employee deserved to be promoted, demoted, or outright sacked. Needless to say, Francesco did not let that book out of his sight. 

In the evening, he would either go to Jacopo’s palazzo to discuss any important banking business or meet with Guglielmo at a tavern. Lately, it was becoming more difficult for Guglielmo to make time for him and Jacopo was getting on his nerves. He spent far too much time with that man. He would come home for his dinner and eat alone or go to a tavern and eat similarly. Around 8 at night, Francesco would walk around the garden exactly eight times for daily exercise. Francesco would spend the last bit of his night in his study either reading or doing any research on opening the Rome branch. Francesco usually went to bed between 10 or 11 at night. This was his routine nearly every day except Sunday. 

It almost felt like he was back in his bachelor days with how little he would see Novella. His house was as it should be and he had plenty of work to keep his mind occupied. However, he could not quite ignore this strangely empty feeling to everything he did. Francesco felt like an automaton, repeating the same function each week. There was no satisfaction in anything he did nor anything to look forward to. It made him feel a little envious of the passing strangers in the streets, his employees, or even his brother. Everyone seemed content with their lives and had a purpose. Francesco merely existed and he was beginning to think his life was pointless. When was the last time he felt happy? Or even, just fall asleep peacefully? 

Francesco did not know why but lately, he was unable to sleep. His mind was constantly racing with negative thoughts. Francesco only could think of his shortcomings and what he lacked. In the past few weeks, he was thinking a great deal about loneliness. It weighed on him heavily that he had no friends. Francesco knew that he was only invited to social gatherings because his family was one of the oldest and amongst the elite in Florence. He never admitted it but he always felt a little jealous when his clerks would make plans amongst themselves to go to a tavern or play a game of Frussi. What was it like, he wondered, to sit among a small group and laughing till your stomach ached? How comforting it would be to have friends support you in your times of tragedy and cheer for your victories! 

Guglielmo did not count as a friend, though he was the closest thing to it. Even then, Guglielmo was busy with his own life and seemed happy in it. Francesco would never wish him ill or for him to be unhappy but it hurt him a little to see that his brother living perfectly well without him. It also gnawed at him when he saw Lorenzo, Guglielmo, Guiliano, and Sandro stroll through the city without a care in the world. Not only did it irritate him to see people he didn’t like having a good time but to see his brother enjoying their company was too much to bear at times. Francesco knew he was their family now but wasn’t Francesco his family before them? 

The worse part of all his worries was not having anyone to talk to about it. He was supposed to just shoulder these burdens on his own. Would it be too much to ask God if he could have just one person? One person to be happy to see him after a long day of work, one person to share his thoughts with, and one person who wouldn’t hurt him as so many had before. 

It was all hopeless. No matter how much he wished in his heart, no one would ever care about him.    
  
  


Down the hall and to the left, Novella was unable to sleep as well. Life in Florence was not as bad as she thought it would be since Francesco stayed away nearly always. She had a routine and things to occupy her time. Novella, however, was lonely and homesick. Even at her lowest point in Venice, there were always people looking after her. Here in Florence, she was better off but she felt oddly invisible. Novella was just the mistress of the house who gave instructions to servants. No one asked how was she settling back into the house, where had she gone for the past two months, or even if she was well. Novella tried not to think of this, especially when she put her mind to work. 

At 5:30 every morning, Novella awoke. The servants were not aware that she would slip out quietly into the garden and walk around it at least eight times. Starting the day amongst nature made her feel less anxious. After her morning walk, Novella would ask Sofia to help her dress and style her hair. Sofia would attempt every day to make her hair more elaborately or choose a brighter colored dress but Novella demurred. There was still no point. Clothes were not going to make her feel better. 

Novella would then write out a list of things that needed to be completed for the day. During her absence and Francesco’s continual time spent at the bank, the servants were nearly useless. Nothing was getting done promptly, several of the maids claimed they did not how to do certain chores, they all engaged in idle chatter and time-wasting. She had even caught one of the footmen napping in the stables when she had asked him to send a message to the butcher. Now, at 7:00 sharp, Novella would gather the staff in the dining hall and assign duties to each staff member. Every half hour, Novella would inspect the work and either assign a new task or have them do it over again. 

From 1 to 2 in the afternoon, the servants took their lunch in their quarters. Novella ate alone in the dining room. This part of the day was very difficult for her and so she began reading at lunchtime. It was easier for her to distract her mind instead of remembering how she used to eat with her family. After lunch, Novella would sit and weave her tapestry or do some embroidery. Her goal was at least three hours per day at the loom before getting up and proceeding to the garden. By 5 in the evening, she would return to the garden and do her daily inspections of the plants and shrubbery. If there was any fruit to pick, she would take a sack and fill them, despite the gardeners’ shock that the mistress of the house was picking fruit. Unlike lunch, this was the time of day where she felt most at peace. Novella would finish the day with a light dinner and bedtime reading. 

How was it possible that feeling empty and invisible was worse than the anger and sadness from months before? What was the reason for Francesco to call her home if he wouldn’t acknowledge her? They had not spoken since her return home. It was remarkable how they were able to avoid one another for such an extended period and live in the same house. Well, it didn’t matter to her if he was in another country for all she cared. However, she did need someone to talk to. Loneliness was never something Novella could cope well with. As a child, she used to cry terribly at sleeping alone so she spent many years sleeping in Eva’s room. She outgrew her need to sleep in rooms with other people in it but she was constantly around others even afterward. While the house was full of servants, conversations were always related to household activities. 

Novella sighed and ran a hand down her face, frustrated at her situation. What was she going to do? Was this the way she was going to live out her days? Novella couldn’t accept this would be her fate of being ignored and lonely. She would have to do something about this! 

Suddenly, she thought to send a letter to Eva and see if she would like to come to Florence. Having her beloved sister with her would help ease her loneliness and general melancholy. Novella eagerly hopped out of bed (the first time she had done anything with eagerness in weeks) and lit a candle. She would just grab an inkpot and paper from the study. When Novella reached the door, she frowned at seeing it partially open and light coming from inside. Odd....who was there at this hour? 

Novella peaked inside to see Francesco slumped over his desk, head buried in his arms. The sight puzzled her at first before she realized her husband was asleep. Truthfully, she was a little surprised he was even home at this hour. Or that he was even home at all. Perhaps she could quietly just take a piece of paper and an inkpot without him waking up. As Novella quietly pushed the door open a little more to enter, Francesco stirred. Novella immediately pulled back and retreated into the shadows. She could see Francesco lift his head sleepily before rubbing his eyes. Novella saw him shuffle some papers as he yawned and half-heartedly put things in an orderly fashion on the desk. Although her husband looked exhausted, there was a distinct sadness about him too. 

Novella was beginning to wonder if Francesco was an inherently unhappy person. When she first met him, she remembered how he stood alone during his brother’s wedding, silently watching and looking almost forlorn. In the early days of their marriage, she noticed how his smile would never quite reach his eyes when conversing with others or it would leave his face so quickly. Francesco made an effort to be engaged and present with her but he always lapsed into brooding. Was his inability to be happy what caused such problems between them? Maybe they were both too different from one another and he recognized this sooner than she did. 

She wasn’t paying attention to Francesco emerging from the room and nearly bumping into her. Novella nearly dropped her candle in surprise. Her husband looked surprised to see her but his expression immediately stiffened. 

“What are you doing in there in the dark? I could have knocked your candle out of your hands!” Francesco said irritably. 

Novella’s initial shock wore away fast and was replaced with annoyance. “I can do what I like. I am the mistress of this house, am I not?” 

Novella kicked herself internally for sounding petulant and immature. It was a foolish thing to say but she didn’t want to apologize or excuse herself in front of Francesco for any reason. 

“Did I say you were not? I only asked you a simple question!” Francesco bit back. 

“You need not be so impertinent in your manners! You bumped into me and have no decency to excuse yourself or ask if you hurt me.” 

Francesco opened his mouth to respond. True, a gentleman of Florence would have done those things but...it was Novella who started this moronic quarrel. 

“If you behaved in a more lady-like manner, I would treat you as such,” Francesco smirked 

Novella fumed at her husband. He thought he was so bloody clever with his quick remarks. The fool didn’t even bother to think of the consequence of his words. Before she could say anything back, Francesco had already turned on his heel and went in the opposite direction. 

_Bastard,_ she thought angrily. There was no way she could allow him to think he won this skirmish. _Wait and see, Cecco. Wait and see._

That night, Francesco returned home after a long day at the bank. It was not like him to come home so hungry but today he was ravenous. He had always been of the mind that one should eat to live and not the other way around. However, he had worked non-stop today and skipped lunch. He sent a note home to make sure the cook would prepare a hearty dinner. On days like this, a nice roasted lamb with a tarted salmon served with dried fruit and spices would be perfect. 

While Francesco did not indulge in food, he certainly knew what he liked and didn’t like. The banker couldn’t stand anything sour or bitter. He also didn’t care for beans or leafy green vegetables. Soups and stews were not Francesco’s favorite not because of taste because the sound of slurping disgusted him. On the other hand, he did enjoy most meats, fruits, crusty bread, erbolata, and custard cream tarts. Most of all, Francesco would never be able to reject a plate of pasta. He would eat it more often but it seemed like the cook was doing a poor job of preparing it properly. The pasta would either be too soft, watery, or too hard. 

_I should tell Novella to have a word with him_ , he told himself. Francesco shook his head. He doubted his wife would do a thing he asked. If he had to, he would make sure she was fully aware of who was in charge. He didn’t know why he was tip-toeing around her. While he didn’t want to speak to her, to begin with, Francesco needed to reinstate his authority as a husband and master of the household with her. Her display of impudence this morning was entirely unacceptable and she needed to remember her place. At dinner, he would be sure to remind her and the servants that there would be some changes in the house. 

Except...dinner was a horrid affair. He frowned deeply when his dish was dropped unceremoniously in front of him. It was not the roast lamb he had asked for. Instead, he found himself looking into a bowl of _menestra de carne_ , a soup with meat and cinnamon. He summoned Rosalia, the serving girl who stood in the corner. 

“What is this? Did the cook not receive my note?” 

“I do not now, Messer.” 

“Well? Find out!” 

Rosalia walked away much too slowly and with little urgency. He would sack his whole household if it wasn’t so much trouble to replace them with better-trained servants. They were all becoming much too comfortable under his roof. 

The cook, Ludovico, ambled out of the kitchen. He also looked as unbothered as Rosalia did. 

“Did you not receive my instructions for dinner?” 

Ludovico blinked, confused. “What instructions, Messer? I only cooked what madonna requested.” 

Francesco bit the inside of his cheek before he said something very rude about Novella. “I see. And pray tell, where is the mistress now?” 

Ludovico shrugged and caused Francesco to glare. “Well, will you find her and bring her to me?” 

The cook answered that this was not his responsibility as he returned to the kitchen. _Damn that lazy bastard_ , Francesco scowled. He would deal with him after Novella, however. 

Francesco searched the house, loudly yelling for Novella to come out. However, Novella didn’t respond to any of his shouts. Finally, another servant directed Francesco to the garden. He found her walking through the apple trees and picking up apples from the ground. If he didn’t despise her so much, he would have found her to look charming in some, strange...peasant-ly sort of way. Novella looked him up and down in an uninterested manner. 

Francesco huffed, “I see you are deliberately defying my orders. I specifically requested-” 

Novella shrugged, “The butcher hadn’t any lamb today. It simply couldn’t be done.” 

He glared at her. There was no way he could prove she was lying or telling the truth. 

“Could you not request something else, then?” 

“You did not say to. Perhaps you should be clearer in your instructions.” 

“For heaven’s sake! You know what I like to eat and do-” 

Novella rose to her full height. “Do I, Francesco? I was not here long enough to know your preferences. I am afraid I was not thinking of such things in my father’s house.” 

She strode past him, knocking into him just a little as she went by. She smirked a bit to herself when she was well out of view. _Checkmate, Messer. Checkmate._

Francesco was too angry to eat at home now. He thought to eat in a tavern for a decent meal but on his way over, he encountered Jacopo. His uncle enthusiastically insisted on taking him to dinner, guiding him by his shoulders. 

“I have heard that you have, ah...welcomed your wife back home. Is that correct?” Jacopo asked as he poured a generous glass of wine for his nephew. 

Francesco stared at him. Of course, Jacopo knew and had it confirmed that Novella had returned. Although Jacopo did not annoy him the way everyone else was, he still had to be very careful around his uncle. 

“Yes, it is.” 

Jacopo smirked. “I must admit, I am surprised. I thought you made a very sound choice to remove her, what with all the reporting she was doing for Lorenzo de’Medici.” 

Francesco shook his head. “It appeared I was mistaken.” He detailed how the bank was taking losses due to the rumors regarding Novella’s hiatus. “Getting her back deemed essential.” 

His uncle looked at him expressionlessly. “I had told you before the Baldovinetti family are not the sort of people you wish to mix yourself up in.” 

Francesco pursed his lips. Jacopo had said nothing of the sort! How easy it was for him to make his commentary after all this. Jacopo continued talking. 

“Well, I suppose she must be happy to be back as are you, of course.” 

Francesco opened his mouth to tell Jacopo about what happened this evening but he suddenly closed it. Jacopo had led him astray once before and it had cost him his reputation and a great deal of business. It also led to Novella acting as she was right now. No...no he needed to think wisely about how to respond to this. 

“She has settled back in, yes.” 

Jacopo looked suspicious but nodded. “Well, cheers to your happy reunion. Though...it is strange that you are here, eating in a tavern rather than with your recently arrived wife.” 

Francesco gave him a tight smile. “I had quite a bit of work at the bank. I did not wish to disturb her to have dinner prepared at a late hour.” 

“She does not cook. Your Ludovico does.” 

“I couldn’t make up my mind about what I wanted. It is no matter.” 

Jacopo frowned. “Did you not like what she selected for dinner?” 

“She requested a lamb but the butcher did not seem to have any left.” 

His uncle raised an eyebrow. “Really? That seems odd. I passed him earlier this afternoon and he had many lambs in the stalls.” 

Francesco’s expression must have betrayed him. All his irritation with Novella must have come spilling out. Jacopo began to look amused. 

“Dear, oh, dear...it seems your wife is trying to send you a message. Or, she has no control over the household. She didn’t seem like she had much authority or knows what she is doing most of the time.” 

Even though Francesco was livid that he was lied to by Novella he still flared at Jacopo’s commentary about her. In his words, there was a veiled meaning that by choosing Novella, Francesco was a fool. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a fool. 

Francesco schooled his expression to indifference, “I suppose there was a misunderstanding. There was nothing wrong with her dinner choice but I only just wanted the roasted coney. Novella does not care for it.” 

Jacopo was not convinced by this but he said nothing further. He knew his nephew well enough and he knew Novella would be in for quite a temper. He smiled at Francesco and told him he made an excellent choice.    
  
  


After his dinner, Francesco went home still boiling over Novella’s trick. It was stupid of him to get so angry over such a small thing and to make a big production over one meal. However, it wasn’t the food that made him angry, it was her openly lying to his face and a now obvious attempt to annoy him for their little run-in this morning. As a woman, she had little power but she was doing what she could to make him crazy through small attempts that would eventually become unbearable over time. Novella was resorting to childish and petty attempts to anger him. What would make her angry? Suddenly, he got an idea. There was no way he would go to bed without having the last “word”. 

Novella had settled into bed with a book of poetry. She felt a bit tired but she only just found this book of poetry at the bottom of a bookshelf. Novella had never seen it before and wanted something new to read. As she began to read, Novella’s head snapped up to the sound of her door bursting open with Francesco standing in the doorway. She was instantly confused when he saw the bright and beaming smile on his face. Was he drunk? He left in such a huff earlier. 

“Hello, cara! You look lovely tonight!” 

Novella stared at him incredulously. “What is the matter with you? Have you had too much wine?” 

Francesco laughed heartily. “Not wine, amore. I am certainly not drunk on wine.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What then? And you need to lower your voice! You will wake the servants!” 

Francesco crossed the room and without warning, he pulled Novella cleanly out of bed. She let out a yelp of surprise when Francesco pulled her close to him. He gazed into her eyes tenderly and cupped the side of her face. Novella’s eyes went wide and she swallowed hard. What was happening? She was supposed to be pushing him away! But...his curls were looking too soft....his eyes so warm....and his lips. She couldn’t stop looking at his lips. 

_Fight it, Novella...fight it!_

_Don’t fight it, you have missed him. Deep down, you missed him and you missed this. You have missed the way he held you when you shared a bed. You have missed feeling his hands on your body. Most of all, you missed how his lips felt against your skin and lips-_

Novella was only human. Perhaps...perhaps he wanted to make things right. Maybe he missed her too and he was finally setting his pride aside. If he could make the attempt to make things right, so could she. No more pettiness and fighting. It was time to be a lady and to extend her forgiveness. 

Novella leaned into the small space left between them and closed her eyes, lips parted. Francesco leaned forward but came close to her ear and whispered. 

“How I have missed you, Catarina. ” 

Novella instantly jerked back in shock. Who in the blazes was Catarina?! When Novella looked at Francesco, she saw a maddening and violence-inducing grin. Oh no...Novella realized exactly what happened. There was no Catarina at all! A girl named Catarina would have been less humiliating to discover instead of realizing that this was all an elaborate ruse to make her feel stupid and desperate. 

Francesco chuckled, “See what happens when you try to act wiser than you are. Silly girl.” 

Novella was too mortified with herself to even move or respond. Francesco gave her a smug smile and closed the door behind him. That should keep her up tonight while he would sleep rather well with nothing on his mind. _Checkmate, madonna. Checkmate, indeed._

Unfortunately, Novella stayed awake for hours, cursing Francesco, the de’Pazzi family, the city of Florence, her father, the Pope, and the Catholic Church. Most of all, she cursed herself for being so stupid and falling for such an idiotic trick! Damn Francesco for making her feel this way! Damn her for making him believe he was worthy of forgiveness! Novella felt tears sting her eyes, the humiliation of what just happened burning her. She was not going to let this man think for even a second that he could do this to her again. Novella was no fool and she knew just how she was going to make his life a living Hell. Novella got up from her bed and pulled out a few sheets of paper she had squirreled out from the study along with an inkpot. She had a few letters to write.   
  


* * *

AN:  
Erbolata is a cheese and herb tart.   
  
AN2: Sorry I have been gone for so long! My writing is pretty rusty so this isn't my best work but hopefully I can start updating regularly again. Shortly after the last update of this fic, I got married myself, moved to a new city, and have been caught up in making my house pretty and looking for jobs. Now that things have settled down a bit, I think I am ready to get back into writing again. Hope y'all haven't got bored of this story. Things are about the heat the eff up!   



	5. Chapter 4

Two Weeks Later 

Francesco woke earlier than usual on Saturday to the sounds of chatter and horses. The bank usually opened later and closed earlier on Saturdays. It was closed Sunday but one still had to wake early for Mass. Francesco had desperately looked forward to Saturday this week after such a taxing five days. His envoy to Rome had told him things were not looking good for opening a second branch there. The Pope was growing weary of the obvious competition between the de’Pazzi and the de’Medici families and was wanting to step away from upsetting either. The de’Medici bank had been there for years so the Pope very well could not tell them to close but rumor had it that he was interested in banking with an entirely neutral family. 

Jacopo was insufferable about the news. He ranted again and again about what a traitor Guglielmo was for leaving them (all over a woman no less) and felt Lorenzo had done something to push the  de’Pazzi bank lower on the ladder. It also didn’t help Francesco that Guglielmo soundly defended his wife’s family and did not share anything about what could’ve transpired. Three more clients left the bank this week and he could do nothing to bring them back. 

After a nightmare week, a morning of rest could help his mind recalibrate. Maybe he had been too tired, too stressed, or too unsettled to make wise choices. Francesco felt like he was coming apart at the seams. His work and personal lives had taken such terrible turns and he felt utterly lost. How had  everything gone so wrong for him? From the time he was a small boy to now, he always felt unlucky. Losing his parents at a young age, having only his brother for a friend (who didn’t seem very friendly with him anymore), and being forced into banking had made him bitter and cynical. 

Francesco remembered he had wanted to be a scholar when he was young. He had excelled in his studies and his tutors praised him above all others. They said he was smarter than the de’Medici sons combined! Francesco loved learning and discovering new information but Jacopo was enraged at the idea of his nephew becoming a lowly scholar. He had hit the boy clear across the face when they argued about Francesco becoming a banker. 

_ “Where would you be without me? Haven’t I raised you as my own? Let you eat my food? Sleep under my roof? If you have any loyalty at all, you will throw away these girlish dreams and do something worthwhile!”  _

Now here he was, twenty-eight years old, with little to show for in life. He was failing at a job he didn’t even like, he was friendless and at the mercy of his uncle, and he was married to a shrew of a woman. 

The neighing of a horse sounded loudly again, jostling him from his thoughts. What in the blazes was going on outside? Francesco arose from bed and peaked out the window, confusion blooming over his face. He could see a fine carriage with a seal he didn’t quite recognize. More confusion spread over him when he saw his servants unloading the trunks from the carriage. What were they doing? 

  
Francesco hurried to dress and jogged out of his room before he froze in place. He could hear loud laughter and squeals of excitement from...Novella? What was she so bloody happy for? He peered around the corner and color drained from his face. Novella was eagerly hugging another woman about the same height as she. The other woman had long, chestnut brown hair but she wore it bound up in many braids with a ribbon with pearls showing over the crown of her hair. She wore clothes in the latest fashion and of expensive fabrics. The woman wore a gown of bright red with dark fur trimming the sleeves and collar. She was attractive and carried regal and stately air about her. However, she was embracing Novella back just as tightly. When they pulled apart, Francesco could see they had the same eyes but the other woman had a square-shaped face and a wider mouth. 

_ Oh God in Heaven...this was the sister _ . Francesco completely forgot what her name was. He had only met her once briefly during the wedding. What was she doing here?! She just arrived unannounced and with a sizeable trunk that indicated she would be staying for some time. It was bad enough having one Foscari woman in the house but two of them would be torturous. 

“Darling girl! I am delighted to see you! I hated leaving you in Venice when Rodrigo was ill but I had to see you. I am glad I come to you under happier circumstances.” Eva beamed. 

“How is he? Is he recovering from his illness?” Novella wanted to know. She had looped her arm through her sister’s arm as they walked through the corridor. 

She shrugged. “As well as he could be but I doubt he would even know that I have left. But enough about that. Have you settled back into your old married life again?” 

Francesco felt his hackles rise when he heard Novella scoff. “If you could call this ridiculous situation as settling then yes, I have. You would think that I was still in Venice.” 

Francesco didn’t know why but this comment annoyed him. Novella made no effort to make things better for herself. She couldn’t run an effective household and chose to remain angry with him. He needed to defend himself and his home. Francesco emerged from the corner and instantly the women ceased to talk. The air grew thick with tension and he was met with cold silence. 

“Novella. I see we have a guest. I was not informed of such.” Francesco tried to keep his voice even but the irritation was thinly veiled. 

The sister stared at him with abject disgust. She was practically staring down at him from her nose. “Even if you were, I doubt you would have listened. It appears to be a great shortcoming of yours...listening to others.” 

Francesco’s eyes narrowed at the impertinence of his wife’s guest. Novella did nothing to rebuke her sister and stared haughtily at him. Francesco gave a sarcastic smile. 

“I see the Foscari charm runs deeply.” 

Novella spoke up at last. “My sister will be staying for the next fortnight. She is here at the invitation of our cousin, Luca.” 

Francesco groaned internally. Damn it to Hell. First, the Foscari sisters were trying him and now he was being cursed with the daunting  Baldovinettis . He had heard from Guglielmo that Luca  Baldovinetti arranged the marriage of his sister to one of the Giunta sons. It was a smart match because Federico Giunta, the groom, was going to be mayor of Fiesole. The upcoming wedding was going to be a very lavish affair and the most established families were invited. He would rather die than go there but he knew it would be the best place to recover some important client accounts. Over there, he could talk to Messer Cellini and ask him about what was the Pope thinking to do about the Papal accounts. He was only invited because of Novella but he knew her kin would not welcome him there. 

Francesco was going to have to swallow a very bitter and sour pill and warm Novella up. Perhaps she could put in a good word for him at the wedding and her family would be more amenable to him and stop this character assassination. 

He took a deep breath and responded bitterly, “Very well. We should have Ludovico prepare a feast in honor of your sister’s arrival.” 

He barely excused himself before he heard Eva rudely call after him, “And what exactly is the sister’s name?” 

Francesco winced. Curse this woman! She was worse than Novella if that was possible. Francesco scoffed and laughed with no amusement. “What sort of question is that? Of course I know your name.” 

Eva raised a brow. Novella was barely stifling her laughter. God must hate him if he was going to have to make nice with such hellish creatures. 

“What is it?” 

“I do not think it is in good form for me to address you by your Christian name, ma donna.” 

“Nonsense. We are...unfortunately...related after all. What is my name?” 

Francesco felt his face burn. The servants gathered around and were watching with great interest. It would be laughable if the Master didn’t know the name of his guest and sister-in-law. It also would show how fractured the marriage between the Master and Mistress were since Novella wasn’t even trying to help him. 

Francesco tried again to stall by insisting he needed to leave for the bank but Eva would not back down. 

“Come now, if you are as intelligent as everyone says you are, what is my name?” 

Francesco cursed under his breath. He was stuck now. “It is...Bianca?” 

Eva smirked. “That, I believe, is the name of your brother’s wife.” 

“Lucrezia?” 

The servants and Novella burst into laughter. Francesco was enraged. He hated being laughed at and he was publicly humiliated in front of servants no less! He needed to get control of the situation now. 

“SILENCE! SILENCE ALL OF YOU! HAVE YOU NO RESPECT?!” He shouted. 

The servants immediately shut up and scattered away. Novella, on the other hand, was still tittering behind her hand. Eva grinned triumphantly. 

Francesco snarled at her, all good sense leaving his head. “I do not care what your name is. You are of little to no importance to me. I’m leaving and I have no wish to see you during your time here. Stay out of my way. Both of you.” 

He barreled out of the house but his face went red with anger when he heard peals of laughter before he slammed the door behind him. 

  
  


The Foscari sisters chose to share the same room despite Novella insisting Eva take the warmer guest room. Eva laughed and reminded Novella how she would clamber into her room and sleep beside her. Novella had done this for years and more so after the death of their mother. Eva and Novella lay on the bed, chatting amiably about Eva’s trip from Verona. Suddenly, Eva became serious. 

“Tell me, Novia...are you glad to be returned? You must forgive me if I spoke out of turn with your husband. I cannot help but remain angry with him for his treatment of you.” 

Novella sighed and looked downcast. “It is difficult but it was not as though my life with Papa was that much better. He would have done anything to get me back to Florence and Francesco is well...Francesco. It hurts me that I seem so unwanted but I have no other place to go.” 

Eva gave her sister a comforting squeeze on the arm. “If only we were not women.” 

“It is not us being women but men being so...” 

Eva grinned wickedly, “Stupid?” 

The sisters burst into laughter. Novella recovered first but remarked gently, “I hope Rodrigo is not stupid and your burden lies only in his poor health. Which he can recover from, God willing.” 

Eva’s expression changed abruptly. The laughter died from her eyes. “Dearest, you must promise me you cannot tell Papa, Andrea, or Giuseppe.” 

“What is wrong?” 

Eva sighed and began in a strained voice, “When I left your side in Venice, I received word that Rodrigo was ill. That is not true. I received a letter from Arabella, his sister, to tell me that I needed to return. You see, Rodrigo was...” Eva faltered and closed her eyes. She shuddered in such a way that it caused Novella to sit up. 

“What happened?” 

Eva swallowed, “Rodrigo has been kind to me in our marriage but he does not act as a man should act with his wife. He has been taking male lovers.” 

Novella gasped in shock. “Oh, Eva! You poor woman! We must tell Papa!” 

Eva shook her head vehemently. “No! No, I cannot do that to him. We may not love each other the way a husband and wife should but he is a good man. He cannot help himself and he begged my forgiveness. I knew there was something different about him because of how rarely we shared a bed. I thought it was another woman but there was no evidence of such. There were many things I tried to ignore but I cannot let him face ruination.” 

“How can you live with a man like him? Even if he is kind, you deserve to be with a loving husband! You deserve to have children! It was your dream for years, Evi!” Novella protested. 

Eva lowered her voice and scooted closer to Novella. “It is but...I have something else to confess. When I first confronted Rodrigo after the first few months of our marriage as to why would he not come to our bed, he permitted me to...to seek my affections elsewhere.” 

Novella was reeling from the news. Her sister, so prim and proper, had a lover? “Is there someone?” 

Eva nodded. “Yes. Rodrigo recommended him to me. I refused it at first because it is such a sin but after I received Arabella’s letter, I did not know what to do. I do not wish to annul the marriage because it would cause such a scandal but I could not live such a lonely life.” 

Novella shook her head in dismay. “I do not know what to say but only that you cannot get caught.” 

“No, never. When I received your letter, it was the perfect excuse for me to stay out of trouble. I think Rodrigo’s mother was beginning to suspect something amiss between her son and I.” 

The younger Foscari sister had nothing else to say. She felt sad that Eva was stuck in such a situation and was resorting to such extremes. 

“Novella...I think you need to know that your situation is not so different from mine.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“What do you think Francesco was doing this whole time you were gone? No man would forgo relations for so long! He may not be like Rodrigo but surely there have been women in your place.” 

Novella paled at this but Eva kept speaking, “I am not saying you must do as I am but this man will continue to humiliate you over and over again. I hate the thought that a Foscari woman must be treated like this. He needs a lesson in humility.” 

Novella buried her face in her hands. Eva had to be right. First, Francesco kicked her out in such a public manner. He was still indifferent and dismissive of her presence now. It was extremely likely there was another woman. While it was common for men to take up multiple women in their marriages, it was something Francesco had railed against when he was first courting her. He must have found another woman he liked more and used a flimsy pretext to be rid of her! 

Novella didn’t know why but she began to cry. Her shoulders racked with sobs as she wept loudly. Eva gathered her up in her arms and embraced her tightly. 

“Do not worry,  _ cara _ . I am here for you now. I will set this man straight, so help me God. I will not let my jewel be hurt like this!” 

A week before the wedding, Francesco took a deep breath before he entered his home. He had avoided his wife and sister-in-law successfully since his last unpleasant encounter. However, he needed to speak to Novella about his arrival at the event. Francesco would prefer to do it alone but that shrew of a sister-in-law (he had since learned her name was Eva) never left Novella’s side. If he saw her in the house, she gave him cold yet burning stares. She would loudly say something cutting and impolite about how he was a terrible host or what a disgrace of a man he was. Francesco chose not to engage but his blood boiled at how shamelessly Eva tried to provoke him. 

Francesco stayed in his study waiting for Eva to go to bed. However, he could hear her shrill cackling from his room. Novella was laughing much more since Eva arrived. The banker felt a strange twinge of jealousy over how delightful and engaging Novella was with other people. She reserved all her ill-mannered sarcasm and poor temper for him and him alone, it seemed. 

He hated to admit it, but Novella had been a very useful asset to the bank during the early days of their marriage. She hosted grand banquets and assumed the role of an exceptionally attentive hostess. His colleagues from the Signoria all commended Francesco on such a fine choice of a wife. Novella did not gossip but she did not make the other wives feel as though she was stuck up or disapproving. She remembered everyone’s names and had a knack for making those whom she spoke to feel important and heard. Her brief removal from the home caused his colleagues, clients, and acquaintances to wonder what sort of man was he to throw away a perfectly good marriage to a perfectly good woman. 

Now, he needed her to be charming and gracious at the wedding. Especially if people asked where she had been. Novella certainly would not lie but he could hope she could be discreet and tactful. 

At last, the laughter and chatter died down from the dining hall and Francesco seized his chance. To his great delight, Eva had already left but Novella was still there, reminding a servant about some chore. Instantly, the activity in the room ceased and all eyes were on him. 

“I need to speak to my wife.” He winced internally at the delivery of his statement. Even Francesco recognized he sounded impolite but he needed to remind his staff and his wife that he was in charge. Novella scoffed but quietly dismissed the present staff. Francesco began without preamble. 

“I need you to tell your cousin that things have been righted between us...or something to that effect.” 

Novella snorted in an unladylike way. “No, they have not.” 

Francesco exhaled sharply. “I am aware of that but I need you to say so when we go to the wedding.” 

Novella looked at him incredulously. He had some nerve to make demands of her. “And why would I do that? I see no reason for me to do so.” 

The banker gripped the table and looked down for a moment before speaking up. "You are aware that your kin has been harming the bank’s business, are you not?” 

“I was not but can you blame them?” 

Francesco bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling. “Novella. I will say this once and only once. If business is bad for me, then it is bad for you too. All the luxury and comfort you live in now will be gone if I cannot maintain a business. We will be destitute and for what? A misunderstanding? It is done and over with. If you want to live as you are accustomed, you must tell your family everything is well and they heard false rumors.” 

Novella wanted to throw a pewter tankard at him. Novella was quite skilled at throwing things at a long distance. Angry as she was with him and his gall, she, unfortunately, knew what he meant. If the bank collapsed, they would lose the house and the staff. Novella had many skills but it would not do for a highborn woman like herself to take up a trade. Before she married him, she had been taught that wives were indispensable in helping their husbands with their careers and social stations. If husbands had nothing, then wives had even less. 

However, this knowledge would not stop her from making a bargain. “If I play the role of a happy wife, which I am not, you must do something for me.” 

Francesco narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He should’ve seen this coming. “Such as what?” 

Novella gave him an insincere smirk, “A favor for whenever I request. You cannot say no to me when I do.” 

He cursed under his breath and internally called Novella many unsavory names. However, he was at her mercy and he needed her to cooperate. 

“Very well. I will grant your favor upon request. Do we have an agreement?” 

Novella shrugged and walked off. Francesco grabbed the nearest goblet and loudly called for a servant to bring him his wine. The banker was going to need a lot of it. 

* * *

The Baldovinetti house was a sprawling property fashioned after the Classical style. The main façade boasted eight columns gleaming brightly from the famous Carrara quarries. The east and west colonnades stretched at least a mile each before leading to their respective wings. The scent of roses and orange blossoms wafted pleasantly through the courtyard and garden where all the guests had gathered. It was clear that the family had spared no expense for the union and hired several dancers, two jesters, a poet, and other entertainers. Wine flowed freely into the goblets of each guest and the tables groaned under the weight of the several types of roasted meat, sugar sculptures, loaves of bread, and cakes. 

_ So much extravagance _ , Francesco thought as he was taking in his surroundings. Granted, his wedding had been one of lavish means but it was only because it was expected. Jacopo thought it would be in poor taste to host a wedding that didn’t signal the family’s wealth and prestige while Andrea Foscari wanted to celebrate his youngest daughter the best way he could. The Baldovinetti-Giunta wedding, however, made his wedding look like an ordinary feast. Even Lorenzo de’Medici did not have half of the entertainment and feast tables that were here. 

Francesco glanced around for anyone he knew so he could speak to someone. Novella and Eva had departed some days earlier to participate in pre-wedding festivities. All the better for him but it felt uncomfortable for him to arrive alone. It did not help to see the judging eyes upon him. At last, he saw Guglielmo standing over with the de’Medici family. This evening was already off to an annoying start but seeing Guglielmo standing so comfortably with his in-laws made Francesco more irritable than he already was. He waved at his brother but Guglielmo motioned that he needed a minute before going over there. He and Bianca were already speaking to some other guest and it would be rude if he left in the middle of the conversation. Unfortunately for Francesco, he was not sure when the discussion would be finished. 

Francesco awkwardly stood in a far corner, watching all the other guests greet one another delightedly. He could see many brightly dressed young women gathered in a group as they scanned the crowd for eligible husbands. Children were chasing one another with long ribbons, laughing hysterically over their play. There were several members of the Signoria he could recognize but he doubted they could see him since Francesco was tucked away in an obscured part of the courtyard. It was remarkable to him how alone he felt amongst so many people. He knew he wasn’t helping himself by standing alone but Francesco did not feel the merriment and the joy that everyone else was feeling. 

“Ah, is that Francesco de’Pazzi over there? Florence’s second-best banker?” 

Francesco winced at the epithet he was given. Girolamo Cellini could be a right idiot in the way he spoke to him but unfortunately, he was useful in many ways. He had many connections to the Pope and may be able to help him find an in with securing the Papal accounts. Francesco put on his most social expression and smiled politely at Girolamo. 

“It is a pleasure to see you, Girolamo. I hope you have been well? I have not seen you in some time.” 

The other man nodded affably but did not reply right away. He had taken a large bite out of a handheld pastry he was eating and was chewing with gusto. He waved a hand before speaking, flecks of food flying everywhere. 

“All is well, I am happy to say. Beautiful wedding, no?” 

Francesco nodded but before he could speak again, Girolamo continued. 

“I understand the Baldovinettis are your relation through marriage. You must be delighted to be part of such a family.” 

“Yes, my wife is their relation through her mother’s family. She-” 

“I am sure they were none too pleased when they learned you removed her from your home?” Girolamo remarked with a knowing tone. The man looked like a cat ready to pounce on a bird. Idiot. 

Fortunately, Francesco was ready for these statements. God knew he would be hearing this all night. 

“You are mistaken, Messer. My wife merely went home to visit her father. She missed Venice terribly. I did not have the heart to force her to stay by my side here. Must be difficult for young women to leave their homes.” 

The banker was pleased to see Girolamo look confused. “Is that so? I had heard-” 

“Petty gossip of servants and some jealous neighbors. I can assure you, all is well between my wife and I.” 

The other man’s expression burst into relief. “Well, that is a delight to hear. Some people are cruel and will stop at nothing to damage the reputation of decent and hardworking Florentines like yourself. I am sure the Baldovinettis feel perfectly foolish for falling prey to idle talk.” 

Francesco nodded again before changing the subject to the bank and opening a second bank. 

“I had been told by an envoy of mine that Pope is looking to change banks. You surely know my family plans to open a second branch there but the Pope is hesitant to cause controversy.” 

Girolamo told Francesco that this was true but since the wife of Lorenzo de’Medici was related to Cardinal Orsini, the Pope decided to resume his banking services with the de’Medici bank. “Some Church politics, I can assure you. However, the Pope does think Lorenzo de’Medici is too power-hungry. He would prefer using a bank who isn’t run by someone so over-eager and interfering.” 

Girolamo began to advise him on what he should do next before they were interrupted by loud cheers erupting for the bride and groom’s arrival. Both men left the end of the courtyard to join the rest of the guests. Francesco suddenly caught sight of Novella standing near the base of the steps. He blinked in surprise when he saw his wife. She looked like the Novella of old.  
  
Instead of drab and dull clothes and hair, Novella was wearing a beautiful silk midnight-blue  _ giornea _ __ with gold and silver threads. She wore it over a dull gold __ _ gamurra _ __ with had even more silver thread work on the collar and sleeves. Her hair was artfully gathered in silver ribbons and shot with gold work. The blue of her gown brought out the blue of her eyes and the redness of her hair. While Novella would not wear such extravagant clothes in their house for day-to-day purposes, it was oddly comforting to see dressed the way a noblewoman should dress. It annoyed him that she was blending in with the servants at home but more than that, it showed him how little she cared about what he thought of her. 

Novella looked ten times more comfortable amongst her people than she did at home. She behaved every bit like a proud cousin and was having a wonderful time. Eva stood beside her, grasping her sister’s hand as they laughed merrily over a joke Novella made. Francesco suddenly remembered it would be strange if he spent the whole night away from Novella. For appearance’s sake, he needed to take his side by her and look like a happy husband. 

As Francesco made his way over, he suddenly felt a hand grab him roughly. He turned to see the face of Luca Baldovinetti glowering at him. 

“You have some nerve to show your face here, de’Pazzi.” 

Francesco was shocked at how publicly Luca was acting. He looked around in hopes no one could see this. Francesco was a fool to hope. Girolamo Cellini and Lorenzo de’Medici were both looking over. 

“How could I not attend? We are related by marriage, are we not?” 

Luca let out a bark of sarcastic laughter. “Marriage? After you threw out my beloved cousin from your house?! You are a fool to think I would allow you to treat my kinswoman this way!” 

“Luca, lower your voice. You heard falsehoods spread against me. Do you wish to ruin your sister’s wedding by causing a quarrel over something you do not know the truth about?” Francesco pleaded, panic rising in his stomach. 

More people were watching the exchange between Luca and Francesco unfolding. Many guests were highly interested in seeing how Luca  Baldovinetti and Francesco  de’Pazzi would interact with one another, especially since it was no secret how much Luca hated Francesco. 

Novella, who was only a few feet away, instantly stopped talking to Eva. She became painfully uncomfortable seeing all the fixed eyes on Francesco and Luca. 

“I know the truth! You threw my cousin out of your home and for what? Because of some never-ending and ridiculous feud with de’Medici?” Luca had violently gesticulated toward Lorenzo de’Medici, who looked shocked at his supposed involvement. 

Before Francesco could speak, Eva cried out in a shrill voice. “You needed some excuse to be rid of my sister! You found some cheap whore to pursue and thought she was better than Novella. You lied about throwing her out over being a de’Medici spy so you could have a harlot in your house instead!” 

The guests stood in stunned silence. While it was not unheard of for men to have dalliances with lower born women and prostitutes, it was a great scandal to leave a high-born wife for a woman of such low standing. The story about Francesco de’Pazzi removing his wife from their home because he thought she was a spy was too strange for people to accept. No one ever said it aloud though but there were many whispers it was something else. 

Luca looked as though he was about to explode but said in a very low voice, “Is this true? You have replaced my cousin with a harlot?” 

Francesco’s confidence was fast unraveling. He felt as though he was about to be pushed over a cliff. He frantically looked to see if Guglielmo or anyone would help him but no one spoke. His eyes fell to Novella but she stood still, looking utterly humiliated. She was in a difficult position now of defending her husband or allowing people to discuss rumors about her private life. 

“No! No, it is not true! I have never defied the sanctity of my marriage! I have never-” 

Eva stormed over to him and stood between Luca and Francesco. Her blue eyes flashed with rage and the muscles in her neck were straining as she thrust her face into Francesco’s. 

“SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE?! YOU THREW YOUR WIFE OUT OF THE HOME! NO MAN WOULD RELEASE HIS WIFE UNLESS THERE WAS ANOTHER!” 

The banker couldn’t say anything. No one would believe him if he told the truth. His head was swimming in regret. He could not blame anyone but himself. Francesco should never have listened to Jacopo, he should have allowed Novella to explain herself and trusted his wife. He never should have let his dislike for the de’Medici consume him to the point of paranoia. His poor judgment cost him and here was, publicly humiliated and with no friends to help him. 

“There was no other woman! I swear! Novella, please tell them!” Francesco begged. What could he do now but ask the very last person he could ever ask for help to save him  now?

Novella only looked down. She felt shame heat across her face as her family quarreled with her husband. Now, she was being dragged into a mess created! She was at a crossroads now. Novella could make up some story about how she had gone to visit her father but she remembered Eva’s words. It was such a small thing for Francesco to get angry with her regarding Bianca and Guglielmo’s wedding. Francesco never gave her a chance to explain properly how she was invited. He only listened to his uncle (whom Francesco didn’t even trust that much) and his uncle was nowhere to defend him now. However, she knew what the stakes were if she joined her sister and cousin with their accusations. There was nothing she could do except... 

Novella closed her eyes and let her body go slack. This was going to hurt. 

The guests immediately gasped and began rushing to the noblewoman. The distress of the situation must have frightened her so that she fainted. A female servant caught her before Novella hit the ground.  _ Thank goodness for that _ , Novella thought. She had read in her old books about female characters who fainted easily over anything remotely negative. She used to laugh out loud over such silly women but now she was beginning to think these women were smarter than given credit for. Perhaps they were secretly hatching plans too and needed a diversion. 

Francesco leaped into action. He pushed several guests out of the way and reached Novella’s side. The servant who caught her was waving a bottle of smelling salts beneath her nose. Novella wanted to sneeze and cough over the strong smell. However, she pretended to weakly flutter her eyes and pretended to look dazed. 

“W-where am I?” Novella croaked. Inwardly, she cringed. She may have overacted at this moment. Hopefully, everyone would be foolish enough to fall for this. 

Francesco was kneeling beside her, a strange look on his face. His expression was a mix of confusion and suspicion. “We are here for your cousin Simona’s wedding. At your cousin Luca’s house. Are you well enough to stand?” 

Eva barreled through and pushed Francesco out of the way. “Nova? Nova, what happened? Oh,  _ cara _ , we must get you inside, immediately!” 

Novella protested in a strained voice, “I think we must return home. Please. I do not wish to ruin the festivities. I’d like to rest comfortably in my own home.” 

The sooner she and Francesco got out of there, the better. No more awkward conversations and embarrassing drama. They needed to get away from the prying eyes and wagging tongues. 

Francesco caught the hidden meaning of Novella’s words. “We will leave immediately. We will send for your things tomorrow.” 

Neither woman nor Francesco spoke in the carriage the entire way back. Francesco was fuming at Eva for falsely accusing him Eva wanted to kill her brother-in-law for, well, everything that happened after Novella returned to Venice. Novella was feeling a massive headache tugging at the back of her head over such a fraught and contentious evening. She was in no mood to mediate between her sister and husband. There was going to be a great fight as soon as they entered the house. 

Novella should have been given a great sum of money for her ability to predict trouble when it came. 

“YOU INSOLENT WOMAN! HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF SOMETHING SO HEINOUS AS GOING AGAINST MY FAITH AND GODLY COMMANDS!” 

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YOU TO SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY? YOU ARE A LIAR AND A DAMNED FOOL! YOU DISRESPECTED MY SISTER AND BY CONNECTION, MY FATHER! YOU HAVE SPAT ON OUR FAMILY NAME!” 

Francesco yelled back that Eva was wrong and her public behavior was going to cost her sister her reputation. “I SUPPOSE YOU ARE TOO STUPID TO THINK OF THAT, AREN’T YOU?” 

Eva was about to scream her answer before Novella finally interrupted “Enough! I have had enough! I want no more discussion of this tonight. No one has the right to be angrier than I. What will people say now that we all quarreled so publicly? We’ll never be invited to another gathering again!”

Novella threw her hands up in the air and turned on her heel, walking toward the guest room. Eva followed after her but not before throwing Francesco one last look of undisguised hatred. 

Francesco was left alone in the hall and seething. There was no telling what repercussions would ensue after such a humiliating day. Yet, there was one thing that made him pause. Not for any other reason but sheer confusion. Why did Novella pretend to faint? Surely, she could have sided with her sister and cousin. He knew he asked for her cooperation but she gave him something better. Novella gave him a piece of thread he could weave a story from. He could claim that Novella was much too distressed by her family’s misguided and petty squabbling. Things were rather well at home and her absence was all a big misunderstanding. 

Perhaps...this public fight would bring curious ex-clients back who wanted the full story on what happened and he could spin this excuse to bring them back! 

Just as Francesco continued to hatch his plan, a servant came to him looking nervous. She mumbled that Messer  de’Pazzi wanted to speak to him.  _ It must be Guglielmo wanting to see if everything was alright _ , he thought. 

As he arrived into the receiving room, he was met with the steely and barely suppressed rage-filled expression of Jacopo de’ Pazzi. 

The Lord must really hate him. 

* * *


End file.
